《Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark》Liz Comes Home
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(Part 2 of Elizabeth The DollMaker's Journal)
(Credit goes to KillerDollsUnite)
When I saw Elizabeth, she was a total wreck.
Her hair, a pretty dark brown color, was messily straightened and there were some fly-aways here and there. Now, I don't talk to Liz as much as I used to before the "incident"; she made me swear not to speak of it. Anyway, her hair could've used a little bit of hairspray in my opinion, and she wore the usual clothing: heavy metal band shirts that no one has ever heard of, ripped jeans, black Converse sneakers, and her old, zip-up black hoodie. She and I were really close before what happened.
"Em, I just don't know what the hell to do anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, my whole family's dead, there's a creepy guy stalking me, and now Johnny's in the hospital!"
"I'm sure everything will be okay, Liz."
"How? It's completely unbearable!"
I tried reassuring her, but a jock came up behind her. This guy was Jason's replacement after the police found his (Jason's) body. Anyway, this jerk comes up and throw's Liz's books all over the place, slaps her in the face, and tries to push me away from protecting her.
Bad move, buddy...
Me, being experienced in around 11 years of dance, I kick him, extremely hard, in the ball-sack and punch him in his eye, then run towards safety with Liz.
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Part 2 - Johnny and The Basement >>
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The final dismissal bell rings, and as we both walk home in the crisp snow, the same jock (now having a fresh black eye) runs up behind her, punches her in the side, and as she falls, she paints the snow red with her blood. When he did this, man ran up silently behind him, and immediately the second man impaled the jock with his assortment of sharp knives and blades. When the jock fell to the ground, the man was collecting the body's five quarts of blood in a large bucket.
"Johnny? I thought you were in the hospital."
"Emily, it's a long and complicated story. I'll tell you later."
The next thing I know, I slip on a patch of black ice, and I'm knocked out.
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~Narrative's POV~
Emily woke up in a chair, her arms tied down to the arms of the chair with itchy rope. She was in a cold dark room, with her face against a dark, sticky wall. At once, she knew what the substance coating this wall was, due to the irony smell.
Blood. Lot's of the stuff.
A shadowy figure comes in and walks over to where the girl was bound, cutting her free. It then cleans her fear stained face, where blood was starting to dry. The figure then walked over to a corner, and turned on the light switch, showing Emily the large numbers of dead and brutally dissected bodies, not to mention all of the grotesque organs and fingers and what not lying all over the place. She saw Johnny's bookbag, completely filled with assorted knives and the blood stained bucket that was with the jock's blood from before.
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Emily knew where she was.
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As Emily walk up the long, dark, old staircase with him, her clothes were slightly stained with blood and cold sweat. The feeling that she was being watched was coming from the hundreds, maybe thousands, of dead and rotting corpses. And the thought of the little boy living next door knowing this. She thought to herself, "He must be frightened, the poor little thing!" Johnny walked in front of her, as he slowly led Emily out of his maze of a house, passing the unidentifiable bodies of innocent people. When the duo got to his living room, Johnny gazed into her soft brown eyes, gently holding her face. They both slightly blushed, as Emily saw that look in his eyes that she has never seen before, making the room have a melancholy attitude.
"Emily, do you know why I had to take you?"
"...I-I thought I would die..."
"There's this thing...it guards the gate to Hell. I have to keep the wall wet with blood...so I don't die.."
As she saw a tear roll down his face, Johnny leaned close to the frightened girl, and whispered into her ear. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore, but now you know why.. I have to get rid of the evidence.. I love you."
He jabbed a small jagged dagger into Emily's side quickly, holding me as she breathed her last words, wiping his tears away, feeling the pain and the death build up on her, completely consuming the young female.
"Then don't.."
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Part 3 - Timeskip and Murder >>
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One year later, Liz finished writing in her journal, one of the last entries she'll ever write. She quietly sang to herself in the darkest corner of her room, trying to coo to herself after another beating from her drunken foster father, cuts and bruises covering the once flawless complexion of the seventeen year old, her voice cracking but still giving out it's melodious tune.
"Button eyes, button eyes, stitched smiles and white lies. Button eyes, button eyes, never saying goodbyes.."
As she sang, her anger boiled up inside of her, as she opened her door silently, gripping her pocketknife in her hand. Quickly trotting down the small flight of steps, seeing her sweet foster mother in a bloody pulp on the floor, she let a tear gently skid down her abused face. "No.." Anger filled her thoughts and actions, violently running over to the giant red chair where he was sleeping, and snatching the sewing kit out of her father's sleeping hands, pouncing onto her second victim. The man jumped up, struggling to get free, as Liz evilly giggled, her eyes filled with anger and insanity that has been building up for the last ten years. His screams of fear made her smile even more, but then quickly annoyed her. She aimed the pocketknife blade in between his eyes, then thought for a moment, his screaming ceasing. "You know, I might want to have fun with you..." She punched him, dead in the face, quickly knocking him out.
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Once that was over, she dragged the unconscious body to your average hunting basement, complete with spiderwebs and dim lighting above your head, to the blood stained concrete underneath. Putting a gag in his mouth, she strapped him to an antique electricity chair, not using the execution device as it was intended. Pouring a flask of whiskey over his head, the man jolted awake, looking around the place he was in, spitting out the gag. "Where the fuck am I?! Get me out you slut!" She slapped his face, leaving a dark crimson mark. "Shut the fuck up!" He whimpered in pain, now knowing what she started to feel like. "I think you need to be made beautiful, don't you think?" She giggled angrily, giving him a look so insane, tears started forming in his eyes.
"Don't be sad, you'll look so much better as a doll.." She gently placed her sewing kit on the small stool being used as a table, pulling out two black buttons, comparing different sizes. "Hmm, I guess 69 millimeters will have to do. Oh well.."
She removed a needle from the medium sized basket, threaded with white. She thought for a moment, hearing his cries subside, dozing in and out. "Come now, we need you to be awake! Ah, this ought to do the trick.." She pinned his lips together, watching the blood splatter as he screamed once more. "There we go! Back on track!" She took out the pins, marking the bloody dots, before closing her eyes, and putting the needle through the first small hole his screams growing bloodcurdling. Stitch after stitch, the drops of blood stained the thread, and she looked upon his beautiful mouth. "There, now don't you feel better?" He shook his head violently making the girl frown. "Aww, well,you won't have to deal with it for long.." She pulled out the buttons placing them over his closed eyes. "Don't move." Again, she returned the needle, bringing out the white innocence it used to hold. From losing so much blood, the man passed out, leaving Elizabeth to finish her work in deadly silence.
A few minutes later, he woke up, still bound down, looking at himself in the mirror with horror. His eyes, no, buttons, were now crying blood. She stood behind him, psychotically grinning as her own blood skidded across her face, a horrific stitched Chelsea's smile following her right cheek. He frantically looked at her in the mirror through four small crescents under bright lighting, a terrifying left button where her eye used to be, as if it was crying blood. "Now we're both pretty, don't you love it..?" In one quick move, she sliced the skin on his neck, watching him slouch forward after a second, the blood spilling out like a waterfall.
"Too bad you didn't get to see my beautiful face as well as yours. Looks like you're sewn up in a big problem now.."
And with this, she went to work, taking all of the fabric in the house, making medium sized felt dolls with button eyes and stitched smiles, something she had been planning to do in a long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Local News Report:
At a high schooling this area, the most gruesome and bizarre things occurred early 7 AM today as one particular young adult stepped into the doors, to find that no one was in the building hallway, unlike the usual chattering of teachers and students filling the echoes that are now silent. As she walked on, she noticed a few drops of red, assuming it was paint, until it started growing into large pools of blood, looking up to see that everyone was dead. Gruesomely murdered and turned into "human dolls," with buttons stitched into the eye sockets, and lips showing a stitched smile. The killer, she said was standing in the center of the room, having an "psychotic look in her useful green eye, the long brown matted hair sticking to her face and neck." The young woman requested that we do not use her name in this, and she continued the description of the killer:
"She had a black hooded sweatshirt, dark blue and crimson jeans, and worn down black Converse sneakers. Her face was disoriented, as a severely rough cut stitched smile extended what looked like her right cheek, and her left eye. Oh god.. The large black button cried blood as she stood there. She sprinted towards me, a blood stained doll in her hand holding a bloody needle with black thread. I ran for my life in the other direction, screaming for help. When I turned around, she was gone, and on the large wall that once stood proud, large words were written in blood, creating a terrifying sentence, next to it, two buttons and a stitched smile:"
"Liz came home."
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